2019 marks 25 years since Nelson Mandela was elected as the first black president of South Africa. Finally, apartheid, the system of racial segregation institutionalised by the Afrikaans-led Nationalist Party in 1948, was a chapter closed. Since that time, South Africans of all backgrounds have been debating the extent to which the post-apartheid vision of ‘a rainbow nation’ -- a multicultural unity of people of many different nations -- is being realised.

This question is not only of interest and importance within South Africa. Against a context of rising populism and white nationalism across the Global North, are white people in South Africa really rejecting the privileges of white supremacism which they have enjoyed for so long?

My Identities article, 'Reimagining racism: understanding the whiteness and nationhood strategies of British-born South Africans', examines this question by looking at one group of South African Whites: those who were born in Britain and migrated to South Africa. Many did so in the 1960s, 70s and 80s, through a ‘Ten Pound Pom’ scheme which offered them cheap passage, good jobs and comfortable accommodation on arrival. Whereas, at home in Britain, there was rising rejection of the apartheid system in South Africa, this group chose to up sticks and move to a deeply segregated society. How do they explain this, to others and themselves? And how do they now talk about the situation in South Africa today?

Research on racism more generally reveals that ‘denial’ is a common white strategy. Studies across Australia, the Netherlands, Scotland and New Zealand show that, when white people talk about race, denial of racism is a pervasive tactic to avoid charges of being racist (van Dijk 1992; Augoustinos & Every 2007). My Identities article builds on this research but argues that the history of South Africa brings an additional, but significant, context. The overt segregation institutionalised through the apartheid system established a legacy of racism that means that outright denial is not an option open to white South Africans. However, through close examination of the talk of people I interviewed, I show how racialised systems, both past and present, may be reimagined, such that their forms and meanings are recast into alternative narratives.

I found four ‘discourses’, or ways of reimagining, are commonly used. First is temporal reimagination, which holds that racism in the past was not as bad as it was made out to be, in the British press in particular. As a result, in the present, a return to the ‘good old days’ is desired by both Blacks and Whites in South Africa. For example, Moira, in her 60s, explained:

'In some ways [the South African Government] were too good at communicating, because I don’t think that racialism was any worse here, but the mistake was giving it a name: ‘apartheid’. Rather than trying to shovel it under the carpet and say, 'Oh no, it doesn’t exist’, they were honest about it, upfront about it and said, ‘Yes it exists, we know it exists, we’re going to support it and we’re going to give it a name!'

Susan, now in her 70s, agreed, telling me that her helpers:

'Elijah and Christmas say they were a lot better off under the Brittos, the white guys, because then--well there was law and order then you see. They knew where they stood.'

Second, boundary reimagination maintains that South African politics is ‘nothing to do with me, as I am British’. The racism of other groups (e.g. Afrikaners) was worse, and ongoing racialised systems are a consequence of their beliefs, not ours (the British). For example, Neil, an engineer in his 40s, told me over a beer:

'There’s a lot of corruption because there isn’t the money or resources to give to people. One time I was pulled over by a metro cop and he says 'I’m thinking I’m gonna have some beers tonight— do you have any money?', and it was like … police begging. When I go to the UK and I see the police pull someone over, I feel like that is how it should be done, you know, not like what you see in this country.'

Third, is open acceptance: Yes, racial segregation existed, and still exists. However, this is both accepted and acceptable as it delivers privileges to Whites. Richard, now in his 80s, whom I met at an exclusive country club in a leafy white neighbourhood in Johannesburg, admits:

'Let's be honest about it, I'm not one of those people who will shrink form that part of South Africa's history, it was brilliant! If you come to a country where you've got blue skies and you've got sea and you've got beaches and you've got a wonderful way of life with a maid and everything is quite a zillion times cheaper than the UK, you think this is paradise!!'

Finally, social reimagination holds that social change is both possible and desirable, and new opportunities are opening to white people. Laura, a young British teacher in her 30s was inspired by the following:

'There’s a sense that everybody’s invited to join in the history --you’re very close to history being made here because it’s in the making. You can taste it in your--that edge of meeting people. Everybody’s making an effort and moving forwards--it’s an opportunity--everyone says the opportunity is here to be grabbed and you’re quite close to the people who are trying to grab the opportunities.'

These different reimaginings of racism demonstrate diversity within British-born South Africans and it is important to recognise the plurality of white positions. However at the same time, a common feature was the lack of any real attempt to reimagine whiteness, and its privileges, and what it might mean to be a citizen of the ‘rainbow nation’.

‘Turkey in means Britain out’: this was one of Nigel Farage’s rallying calls during the Brexit campaign, and these ideas were echoed by numerous others within politics and the media during the referendum. A topic which has long proved controversial among Europe’s elites, Turkish involvement in the European Union has seen renewed interest and opposition over recent years in the context of the so-called ‘migrant crisis’, the 2016 EU-Turkey statement, rising Euroscepticism and the mainstreaming of Islamophobia.

Much of the scholarship has suggested that hostility towards Turkey is associated with the construction of European identity. However, while this notion works for those supportive of the EU, the same cannot be said for those who explicitly reject Europe. How and why, therefore, do openly Eurosceptic parties fervently defend the idea of ‘Europeanness’ in order to reject Turkish involvement in the EU?

My Identities ​article, 'When Eurosceptics become Europhiles: far-right opposition to Turkish involvement in the European Union', explores this question by analysing articles from the official party websites of the United Kingdom Independence Party (UKIP) and the Front National/Rassemblement National (FN/RN) over a five-year period (2013-18). Drawing on theories of Islamophobia and Orientalism, the findings highlight that the construction of Turkey as a dangerous other does not constitute a new phenomenon linked to EU integration, but instead forms part of a longer tradition of racism towards ‘the Orient’.

Turkey as an other

It is too big, too poor and too different from us. (UKIP, 04/05/2016)

Both UKIP and the FN/RN portray Turkey as fundamentally different from Europe in terms of its politics and its people. Orientalist metaphors alluding to empire, such as ‘sultan’, ‘Ottoman’ and a ‘future caliphate’, are used to describe the Turkish government and president. Thus, despite legitimate concerns over Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan’s repressive actions against Turkish citizens, the use of Orientalist imagery by these parties underlines their desire to create a form of cultural, not simply political, othering.

This notion of cultural incompatibility is reinforced by their descriptions of Turkish civilisation and people. Religion is central in this framing, with negativity linked both overtly and covertly with Turkey’s association with Islam. For example, a comparison is made to Christians, who are described by the FN/RN as ‘deliverers of balance and stability’ (10/11/2017). The implication is that Muslims are the opposite to this description and are not only different from, but also inferior to, Europeans and European cultural heritage. Thus, strongly Eurosceptic parties become ‘Europhiles’ by subscribing to the notion of a collective European identity in order to other Turkey.

Turkey as a threat

You have declared the lands of our peoples 'lands open to mass immigration and Turkish influence.' (FN/RN, 11/05/2016)

Both UKIP and the FN/RN depict Turkey as a source of danger to Europe through migration and terrorism. Alongside grossly exaggerated warnings of ‘80 million Turks’ (FN/RN, 01/05/2016) entering Europe, Turkish migrants are portrayed as having attitudes incompatible with European liberal progressiveness. UKIP, for example, claim that the arrival of male migrants ‘who do not share European values […] has resulted in spikes in crimes such as rape’ (18/10/2017). By linking sexual violence with migrants so unequivocally, it becomes an exclusively ‘non-European’ problem and, through the widespread manipulation of feminist ideas to target Islam, is implied to be simply a ‘Muslim’ problem (Farris 2012).

Depictions of cultural threat are further emphasised by Turkey’s repeated association with terrorism, whether through accusations of participating in, facilitating or tacitly supporting it. As such, Turkish people are framed as posing a security threat to Europe. Terrorism, like sexual violence, becomes a ‘non-European’ issue, and similarly, its common association with Islam means that it is seen as rooted in culture (Tuastad 2010). The securitisation of Islam and immigration proves a powerful combination. As such, despite attacking the European political project, these parties become defenders of Europe against an outside ‘threat’.
​Eurosceptics become Europhiles
In summary, these parties use Orientalist and Islamophobic discourse to construct Turkey as a dangerous other and exclude it permanently from a mythical vision of ‘Europeanness’. The transformation of Eurosceptics into Europhiles underlines how the rejection of Turkey does not simply constitute a mode of fostering loyalty to the EU but is also used to reinforce racist notions of Western superiority.